


Love Never Falters

by anotherdiana



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: M/M, What am I doing with my life?, but i guess that's the nineteenth century for you, christine doesn't exist/never went to the opera house, love never dies au, philippe plays piano, philippe plays piano WELL, raoul is completely underage here, so i guess dub-con, totally au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:44:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1967676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherdiana/pseuds/anotherdiana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik/Raoul. Philippe is Erik's student. Ten years later on Coney Island, blah blah blah, I'm so sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PROLOGUE

_ Perhaps we may even frighten away the ghost of so many years ago, with a little illumination. _

 

A young man, barely 18 years of age, stood hidden in the shadows, watching the ballet girls rehearse. Suddenly a shrill scream rose from the wings.

“Raoul, give it back!”

A young boy raced onto the stage, with a red scarf held above his head like a prize. A pretty blonde girl followed him, shrieking with laughter. They weaved through the legs of the dancers on stage, almost knocking some of them off balance.

Any moment now, the ballet instructor, the little girl’s mother, would scold them and send them away. But for now, the children were laughing.

The man smiled softly, and slipped away, the light catching his porcelain mask.


	2. OVERTURE

_ With feasting and dancing and song, tonight in celebration. _

His student, his _protégé_ , was waiting for him in the practise room. Philippe was a striking boy of twelve, and the son of the Opera Populaire’s chief benefactor, the Comte de Chagny. The boy couldn’t sing worth a cent, but played piano better than any virtuoso twice his age.

“Erik, you’re late, again! Were you watching rehearsal?” Philippe grinned impishly, “Were you looking at the dancers?”

Erik patted him on the head fondly as he passed.

“You know I’m not overly impressed with dancing girls. What I _am_ impressed by is good music. Have you been practising? You know I can always tell if you haven’t.”

Philippe sat at the piano, cracking his knuckles in a way that made Erik wince.

“I have, every day.”

Erik raised an eyebrow.

“Well… _almost_ every day.”

He placed his hands on the keys, and the lesson began.

The next day they had not scheduled a lesson, as the Opera Populaire was hosting its annual Midsummer Benefit Revue, a charity event that was supposedly to raise money for the needy in the city, but was in fact nothing more than a way for the rich and important members of society to raise their profile.

Philippe, who, as heir to the Chagny estate, should by rights be attending, was in fact performing at the event.

He spent most of the day in final rehearsals, and received more than a few cards and tokens from the elite members of society, all of whom were eager to see Paris’ new rising star.

When, at last, he was on stage, he performed flawlessly. Every person present was captivated by his skill and passion. Erik watched from the catwalks, and tears of pride ran down his cheeks.

The next day, the newspapers called him an unparalleled talent. He was hailed as a musical genius.

By the time night fell, the Comte de Chagny had removed both his sons to their country manor, where they would remain for the rest of Philippe’s childhood.

It would be ten years before Erik would see any member of the de Chagny family again.

 


	3. WHAT A DREADFUL TOWN

_Who would believe we’ve sunk this low?_

 

“What a vulgar place. We should never have come.” The Comte snatched up the decanter, pouring himself a generous amount of brandy.

“Father, please,” Philippe said, “it’s three weeks. Only three weeks, and then all our troubles will be over. We can go back to France, with no debts, with our heads held high.”

Philbert scoffed.

“Our heads held high? Yes, of course! You, performing like a common showgirl, and me, relying on my son for money! How dignified we are!”

Philippe bristled, his frown growing.

“A concert pianist is hardly the same as a showgirl. It’s respectable enough. And it will all be in the past. Father, we _need_ the money.”

“I am well aware of our financial situation, Philippe. It doesn’t surprise me that I get the blame! I’ve got a mind to leave, debts be damned. How dare that bloody American treat us this way?!”

“I’m sure no offense was meant, Father.”

“No offense! He sent a freakshow to meet us from the boat, so even the lower-class scum could see us, laugh at us!”

Raoul interrupted the fight by racing into the room, cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Father, there’s a man on _stilts_ in the square! Can we go and see the island?”

Philbert didn’t spare his youngest son a glance, simply knocked back his drink, and poured himself another.

“More freaks?”

“Father, Philippe, please, they have a parade at night, and there’s a man who eats _fire_!”

“Philippe, tell your brother the answer is _No_!”

With that, he stormed out, leaving Raoul holding back tears. Philippe crossed the room, and stooped down to bring himself to eye level with his little brother.

“Raoul, you can come with me to the island tomorrow. I have to go and meet Mr Y, and start rehearsing for my number.”

“He hates me.” Raoul whispered.

Philippe sighed. Sometimes their seven year age gap was very noticeable.

“He doesn’t hate you, Raoul. Father is very worried at the moment. Our debts are sizable, and he needs to keep his creditors satisfied. He has little time to think of anything else.”

Raoul nodded, sadly. He understood, but didn’t believe.


End file.
